Crazy
by Madam Grey
Summary: <html><head></head>His friends his warned him Merrill was dangerous. Under her innocent façade there was a crazed monster just waiting to get out and one day he would wake up, dead. Crack M!Hawke/Merrill.</html>


This was lots of fun to write. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated.

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><p>Finally time alone! Hawke dropped a giggling Merrill on his bed and leapt up to straddle her waist. She ran her hands through his thick, black hair and pulled him into a deep, searing kiss. His fingers, charged with electricity ran along her sides, and he delighted in the deep, primal satisfaction her shivers gave him.<p>

He tugged gently at the laces on the side of her green clothing, but to no avail. Without breaking the kiss, he tugged at them again harder this time, but all that seemed to do was pull them tighter. With a frustrated sigh, he pulled away from the kiss and began to pick studiously at the threads holding Merrill's clothing together, shielding her perky bosom from his view.

"Here let me," she murmured, but he swatted her hands away.

"Don't, you'll only pull them tighter."

She huffed and dropped her head against the plush mattress. "Have it your way then."

He hunched over, furiously working at the knots, but his clumsy fingers and blunt nails failed to catch hold of any free strings. "How do you bloody get out of your clothes? You did this on bloody purpose didn't you? I don't remember you being this bloody difficult the last time."

Merrill rolled her eyes and idly tapped her fingers against his bare shoulder. "That's because last time someone managed to rip it off." At the strike of inspiration that crossed his face, she quickly added, "Oh, don't you dare rip this one! This is my last outfit. You'll be surprised how few people in Kirkwall sell nice robes like this!" He grinned devilishly down at her. She tugged his beard and said in the most serious tone she could muster: "Don't be knotty!"

Hawke wrinkled his nose in distaste, scratching at his chin. "That was a horrible pun. I think you should be punished." She wiggled in an attempt to get out from under him, but he held her hips still. "Don't worry Merrill, I won't rip your outfit," he reassured, placing a soft kiss upon her lips. His hands let go of her hips and she sighed contently. "I'll cut it!" he said cheerfully, pulling out the small dagger he kept on him

She yelped as he slid the blade through the laces he had failed to undo. "Oh, of all the underhanded, dirty things to-!" Hawke cut her off with a kiss, let go of the knife, and proceeded to push her clothing off.

"Much better," he said, admiring his work. She was bare and flushed beneath him. Finally! He set about getting himself ready and reached down to undo his laces. Suddenly, he was on his back and he could feel the cold hiss of metal scrap against his black chest hair. Hawke glared up at her. "Merrill," he grumbled, positioning himself to flip her again

"I told you not to ruin my outfit."

He groaned. "Merrill, I'll get you a new outfit! It'll be much prettier."

She seemed to ponder over this and Hawke took this as an opportunity to rid himself of his pesky pants. "Will it have baubles on it? And laced chainmail? Oh! Can it be white and shiny?"

"What? Baubles? Laced chainmail? I don't even think they make robes like that. No, I'll find something better."

Merrill clucked her tongue, not happy with his answer. She dragged the knife lower and lower down his belly. She wasn't really going to – "No! I'm sorry! I take it back. You can have all the white baubles you want on it! Please! No! No!" he squealed in terror. When the dagger cut into his thigh, he nearly passed out. His chest heaved as he breathed deeply and slowly and he brought shaking hands to cover his face. She was insane. She had finally gone off the deep end. Hawke knew he shouldn't of let her stare into that mirror for too long! The realization suddenly dawned on him: one day he would wake up, dead, a knife through his chest, and there, Merrill would sit, holding his shrivelling balls in her cold, cruel hands.

Merrill giggled as she licked at the shallow wound in his thigh. Or, he would wake up in eternal bliss. He groaned and his hands dropped from his face. Her large green eyes gleamed up at him. Either way, she was insane. Bah! When had crazy ever turned him off? Hawke laid his head back, enjoying the feel of her tongue running over him. The prick of the blade running across his ribs and the sudden hot sensation trailing like fire across his chest elicited a moan.

He could feel his muscles slowly relaxing as she ran her hands across him and untangled the flow of blood about his body. And people said blood magic was dangerous; he could probably make a fortune off of this. As if reading his mind, Merrill tightened her hand causing his leg to cramp. "I didn't mean off you, sweetling," he amended. His other leg cramped. Maker, they were going _numb_! "It's a figure of speech! I would never, ever, ever do such a thing. How could you even suggest that? Honestly, Merrill," he croaked, "I can't feel my legs."

She kissed him and loosened her grip. The tingling sensation of blood flowing back into his legs set him on fire and he pushed her roughly into the mattress. Following her lead, Hawke dragged the dagger lightly down her side. Blood trickled down her pale skin and onto the sheets before he pulled it to himself. Merrill shuddered in response, arching against his chest and violently wrapped her legs about his hips and pulled him to her. The red haze of small blood droplets swirled about him. Her green eyes were wide and dark. The air crackled and sizzled about them. Their blood slid hot and thick. It stuck against their skin, and ripping and pulling them together. The taste of copper in his mouth as Hawke kissed her deeply and the overwhelming scent of sweat and smoking air sent him off the edge.

Hawke collapsed beside her; both were pale and panting. Merrill snuggled against him and her eyes gleamed dangerously into his. In return, he narrowed his own and smeared a line of blood across her cheek. "I hope you realize that you've only encouraged me to ruin more of your outfits." She blinked and looked innocently up at him, but he knew better. Clucking his tongue, he tucked her head beneath his chin before drifting off.

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><p>The next morning was strangely quiet. Puzzled, Bodahn rapped his knuckles against the door of the master bedroom. "Master Hawke?" he called, "Mistress Merrill?" No answer. He did not want to disturb Mistress Amell. She had had an awful night's sleep. They all had. Master Hawke had several letters that could not. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. "Master Hawke?" he called again, walking over to the bedside. At the sight of the bloody sheets, he gasped. What a mess. What a horrible mess. Bodahn wrinkled his nose and stepped around the puddle of blood pooling on the floor. He tapped Hawke's cold, clammy shoulder.<p>

Dead. Shit, he thought, the Warden have never given him this much trouble. "I'd just like to let you know my boy and I will be leaving."

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><p>"Bullshit! Tell me what really happened!"<p> 


End file.
